Fortress (of your heart)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "It's been a while," he warned, as she straddled him. Face still smeared with her slick, glinting in the dark.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Van Helsing" 2016 or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Another take on the kissing scene in 2x05.

**Warnings:** sexual content, drama, romance, oral sex, PTSD,

**Fortress (of your heart)**

_"We're never gonna find Vanessa at this pace. We need a vehicle."_

_"Unlikely."_

_"Maybe. I might be turned around but I feel like we left one somewhere close to here."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah. Filled with stuff. Supplies, medicine. I think the only problem was we were out of fuel."_

_"I can take care of that."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah. The cooking oil bins out back. __I know a way to convert that shit to diesel."_

_"How?"_

_"Hey, they don't call me Lucky for nothing, big boy."_

_"Yeah, alright."_

* * *

She recognized the signs for what they were when he set down the jug and looked up at her. And while this time his intentions were clear, she still licked her lips and hesitated. Gun-shy from the earlier sting of rejection.

She'd never had someone flat out not react when she'd kissed them before. There had been boys in school who'd changed their mind about liking her when they got teased by their friends for kissing a girl who was two heads taller than them. A few in College who'd just laughed into her lips when the height difference got awkward. Like she was just a freakish novelty they got to experience before settling on the Girl Next Door. But none of them had ever frozen entirely.

She'd marched outside, head held high. Leaving Phil in the middle of the kitchen as her cheeks burned. Refusing to let either of them see as she busied herself with the oil cans. Wondering how the hell she'd read their situation so wrong.

Only she hadn't.

Because by the time she'd gathered what was left of her pride and womaned up, he was a permanent fixture. Watching her. Pretending not to. Checking briefly on Mohammad. Doing a circuit around the perimeter of the building before circling back to her again.

She didn't say anything. Didn't do anything save for keep converting the oil into diesel. Measure. Shake. Pour. Then again. She'd already put her cards on the table. And hell if she was going to make it easy for him.

Still, like she said, when he set the jug to the side and stepped boldly into her space, she wasn't sure if it was nerves or pride or something else entirely that made her hesitate.

"I should probably..."

But this time he was all in. Showing her he meant it when he reached up and cupped her cheek. And truthfully- she didn't need anymore encouragement than that. Dipping down to steal a kiss that he pushed into. Walking her back towards the wall like every half-remembered fantasy she could remember until her spine connected with the wall and she was slipping off his glasses. Grinning as he shook his head like that would help somehow.

She was about to say something or maybe just laugh before Phil's mouth was on hers again. Fierce and demanding and _that-_ that was not what she was expecting, frankly.

All thoughts of intense gentleness or well intentioned awkwardness - assumptions of what it would be like to be with him - got blasted out the window when he growled and licked his way into her mouth.

It was like once he'd gotten a taste, something in his hind brain broke loose.

Leaving him hungry for it.

_Starving._

He didn't want to wait. He couldn't. _He wouldn't._ Not unless she told him to and honestly, stopping was the last thing she wanted. She needed it too. The feeling that felt like they were flipping off the universe? The bubbling _wantneedyes_ building in the pit of her belly? The electricity that seemed so charged she was convinced the next time his cock ground against her, through their clothes, she'd have to muffle the cry with her teeth in his neck.

Because the truth was, she hadn't felt more alive in the last three years than she did as they banged around, trying to get the upper hand.

"This is insane..." he panted.

"And?" she challenged right back.

His eyes were coals in the dark. Somehow more intense without the glasses. Looking up at her like she was the most important thing in the world before-

_Oh._

_Holy fuck._

He dropped down to his knees in front of her. Greasing his jeans with the droplets of oil she'd spilled over the last few hours. Nosing into the v of her jeans with a rumbling sound as her hand slapped back against the wall in surprise.

"Don't-" she started before the look in his eyes cut her off. Automatically thinking about how long it had been since she'd had a shower. Or even _thought_ about trimming down there. Cheeks flushing hot when she realized all she'd had time for that morning was a discrete wipe down behind some bushes before the others woke up. How-

"Please..."

That was all he said. And honestly- she didn't have it in her to refuse him. Maybe with someone else she would have, but not him. Not when he was looking up at her like _that. _Besides, there was something about him and his expression that told her it didn't matter.

"If you're sure..." she allowed cautiously. This time helping him undo buttons and tug her jeans impatiently off her hips. Forcing her to swallow a surprised little yelp when he tore off his fingerless gloves with his teeth.

Something which had no business being as hot as it was before-

Her head thudded back against the wall with a sigh.

Making a mental note to send a prayer of thanks to whoever taught him how to eat carpet like it was his last meal. Paying attention to all the places men seemed to miss and learning what she liked in real time.  
_  
__Was he even real?_

Had she hit her head and was just imagining all this?

The product of an over active imagination and her starved libido competing for air-time?

She dug her nails into his shoulders. Finding solid ground until he groaned and arched into the bite like an unconscious part of him liked the pain.

_Jesus._

No, this was _definitely_ real.

She wasn't imaginative enough to dream _that_ up.

Still, it wasn't quite enough to get her there. She'd always been a bit complicated. Ex-boyfriends had done their fair share of complaining over the years that she made it difficult. That she wasn't easy like all the other girls they had who were probably faking their orgasms anyway.

Which was why they were exes.

Obviously.

"Tell me," he said, voice gravel rough. Like a growl but softer as he knocked her knees further apart. Absolutely bare of wounded pride or the ridiculous notion that anyone other than her knew her body best. "Tell me what you need."

Electricity jolted to nerve endings almost on cue. But she still directed his hand anyway. Showing him exactly where and how much pressure to use. Teaching him in a way that should have been impossible in dark, but he did it anyway.

"There like that- just-"

She exhaled, throaty and high-pitched as the ripple of pleasure crested and left her warm. Leaving her sated, but still hungry, as he tugged at her jeans. Yanking them down towards her ankles as she rubbed her thighs together. Enjoying the fading thrum of pleasure.

He was a dependable pillar in the dark. Making her think of that moment in the warehouse where she'd caught a glimpse of him in the dust. Looking up at her like she was the only impossible thing left in the world. And now he was looking down at her in the exact same way. Ignoring his own needs in favor of just looking at her. Like it didn't matter he was so hard against her thigh she _knew_ it had to hurt. Breathing like he was half winded or maybe just about to fall apart. Coasting on the type of emotional PTSD you knew was going to break down any second and-

_Jesus._

She pushed him back. Flattening him gently to the floor as she clambered on top of him. One palm on his sternum as the flutter of his rib cage flirted with the sweat between her fingers. Yanking his shirt up so she could get to skin. Until he was bare, pale and skinny in all ways men pushing their mid-forties usually weren't.

"It's been a while," he warned, as she straddled him. Face still smeared with her slick, glinting in the dark.

But the truth was, there was no way on Earth he could disappoint her. Even if he came embarrassingly quick. Even if he couldn't keep it up. Because this was something more. Something that lived under the skin and only settled deeper the longer she was around him. It was what'd kept her close when she could have moved on after they'd blown the generators.

_It was him._

There was something about him that just-

She cried out, matching his groan when she sank down on him. Sheathing his cock with a slow glide that curled his hands into fists on either side of her hips. Feeling the tension cord, relax, then soften into an entirely different sort of tightness as she started to move. Watching everything he was feeling play out across his face before he started tugging at her. Showing her just like she'd shown him. Teaching her exactly what he needed and more. Finding a higher power in his heartbeat as he hitched his hips and chased her.

Deciding right then and there that if he did break, she'd be there to put him back together.

No matter what._  
_

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.


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